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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28113345">All His</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/d_dandelions/pseuds/d_dandelions'>d_dandelions</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Anal Sex, Biting, Canon-Typical Monster Slaying, Established Relationship, Humiliation, Jealousy, M/M, Non-Consensual Kink, Possessive Behavior, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rough Sex, Scent Kink, Scent Marking, Semi-Public Sex, Spit As Lube, Under-negotiated Kink, Watersports, mostly clothed sex, pissing inside</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 23:00:32</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,961</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28113345</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/d_dandelions/pseuds/d_dandelions</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Lots of people flirt with Jaskier. Only Geralt gets to have him.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>239</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>All His</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>written for <a href="https://diuretic-dandelions.tumblr.com/post/637684124733325312/love-your-content-would-you-ever-write-something">this</a>  tumblr prompt</p><p>(big warning for nonconsensual kink here, check the end notes for an explanation if you want, and please skip this fic if any of it sounds upsetting &lt;3)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The alderman hasn’t stopped talking but Geralt has long since given up listening. He’d got all the information he’d needed in the first five minutes. Ghouls. More than five but, most likely, fewer than ten. They’d lurked on the outskirts of the town for years but never been bold enough to enter until recently. So far they’ve killed four sheep and two cows and the villagers are afraid, justifiably, that human deaths will be soon to follow. </p><p>Before the conversation had even begun he’d known all he needed to about the alderman, too. Self-important, the sort of man who’d have a monster problem dealt with to salvage his own popularity rather than out of concern for his citizens. A man who despises witchers unreservedly, who’ll sneer and spit at Geralt until he has a problem that needs solving. Geralt’s met dozens just like him and he has no interest in getting to know this one any better.</p><p>He lets the alderman’s incessant talking fade into the background and turns his attention to Jaskier, a few tables away, lounging in his seat and idly strumming his lute. It’s a calculated pretence at casualness, designed specifically to attract attention to Jaskier before his performance has even begun, and it’s working. Already a small crowd of admirers is starting to form around Jaskier’s table, some asking him questions while others blatantly shift into his personal space. As one man rests a companionable hand on Jaskier’s shoulder and leans unnecessarily close to his face to speak to him Geralt’s stomach turns and he grits his teeth against a snarl.</p><p>It runs counter to his every urge but he knows it’s not acceptable to pull Jaskier from his seat and lay claim to him there and then, just because people have seen fit to flirt with him. People always flirt with bards, they <em>touch</em> bards, even bards that already belong to someone else and, as Jaskier has explained to him so many times, it’s a bard’s responsibility to make every fan feel interesting, enthralling, <em>irresistible</em>. Casual flirtation is expected of him and he does a good job of it. If Geralt didn’t know him so well he wouldn’t catch the impatience in his posture, the way his smile freezes ever so slightly on his face when strangers let their hands linger for a little too long. Geralt growls low in his throat and the alderman falters.</p><p>“That should….” he swallows nervously when Geralt turns back to him with a flat glare, “...that should be all you need to know.”</p><p>Across the room Jaskier laughs politely as a man makes a flirtatious joke, leaning in close enough to feel Jaskier’s body heat when he does. The situation is far too familiar for Geralt’s taste and he’s so focused on controlling his annoyance that it takes him a moment to register the insultingly low amount of coin the alderman has just offered for his services. It surprises him, consistently, that people’s reluctance to part with their coin so frequently outmatches even their fear of witchers. He growls a more reasonable price and turns his attention away again as the alderman stumbles his way through negotiation.  </p><p>The man by the table touches Jaskier again, as if it’s his right to, and the bard’s smile twitches unpleasantly, his scent souring with discomfort. Geralt’s hands curl into white-knuckled fists. He wants to gut the man, slice him open from his obnoxious smile to his misguided cock before he has the chance to say another word to Jaskier. As if sensing his thoughts, Jaskier meets his gaze and shakes his head, almost apologetically, before he turns back to his unwanted admirer with a forced grin.</p><p>Before the rage simmering under his skin can force its way to the surface Geralt grunts his consent to the alderman’s new offer, pushes away from the table and strides out of the tavern.</p><p>**</p><p>The hunt is far easier than enduring the sight of any more people touching his bard. Here, with his senses potion-sharp and his sword in his hand, he doesn’t have to resist any of his basest instincts. Here, he gets to kill.   </p><p>He slices a ghoul across its midsection and thinks of a man handing Jaskier a tankard of ale with a wink, he cuts the head off another one and imagines the man who’d touched him with such brazen entitlement. Over and over he slaughters monsters and imagines men in their place until he’s left alone and panting, surrounded by ghoul corpses, the dark blood coating his sword shining sickly in the moonlight. He doesn’t bother to wipe it.</p><p>The fight is over but the potions still burn through his veins and the longer he stands still the more he feels the restless, desperate urge to <em>move</em> to run, to fight, to fuck, to do <em>anything</em> to rid himself of this fitful tension. His muscles ache, his wounds sting and, with the distracting presence of the ghouls dealt with, he’s becoming aware of an insistent, uncomfortable ache in his bladder. He’s disinclined to deal with any of it.</p><p>If Jaskier was here he wouldn’t have a choice. The bard would already be fussing, cleaning Geralt’s wounds and scolding him for putting himself in danger, as if there had been any other way to finish the job. He’d be <em>dealing with it</em> so Geralt didn’t have to.</p><p>Geralt smirks darkly to himself. That isn’t quite true.</p><p>If Jaskier was here, Geralt would be fucking him by now.</p><p>The ride back to the tavern will be a delay longer than he’d care for but the thought of Jaskier waiting for him, always so eager to take whatever Geralt can give him after a hunt, is incentive enough to endure it. He doesn’t waste another second. </p><p> **</p><p>Any faint hopes he’d had that the potions’ effect might have faded by the time he returned vanish as soon as he steps over the threshold. The fear in the room is cold and palpable as, one by one, the guests take in Geralt’s pallid skin and black eyes, stilling in primal terror. Even the alderman, endeavouring to meet Geralt’s eyes without flinching, reeks of terror. </p><p>The witcher stalks silently to the middle of the room without sparing more than a glance to any of them. The specificities of contract payment can be left until the morning. Geralt has other priorities. </p><p>It’s not hard to find Jaskier in the terrified crowd, his hungry gaze just as distinctive as the hot lust spiking through his scent as he takes in Geralt’s appearance. Something animalistic in the back of Geralt’s mind purrs in satisfaction as the bard stands, suddenly oblivious to the people surrounding him, his eyes fixed on Geralt. </p><p>“You want me, witcher?” Jaskier smiles, all teeth, his eager, staccato heartbeat crying out in invitation to Geralt’s instincts. The bard’s wild grin grows as he lets his gaze trail appreciatively down Geralt’s body and tilts his head invitingly towards the stairs. Every muscle in the witcher’s body sings its eagerness to <em>hunt</em>, but Jaskier doesn’t smell like prey.</p><p> “Come and get me then.”</p><p> He smells like <em>mate</em>.</p><p>Jaskier turns and sprints for the stairs.</p><p>Whether it’s the potions’ influence or simply an atavistic desire to chase a fleeing target, Geralt follows after him. He catches Jaskier moments before the bard makes it to the door of their room and traps him against the wall with a hungry growl. Jaskier shivers eagerly. He’s panting, far more than could be explained by his short sprint, and his eyes are dark and desperate, darting back and forth between Geralt and the deserted stairwell behind them.  </p><p>“Out here?” Jaskier toys with the hem of Geralt’s shirt and tilts his chin up in challenge. “<em>Anyone</em> could see.” </p><p>“<em>Good</em>.” He hopes they will but he knows they won’t. Half the people in the inn would pay their body weight in coin to watch Jaskier come and double that to be touching him when he does but Geralt doubts any of them are stupid enough to risk angering a witcher, especially one fresh from a fight, still feeling the effects of his potions. They’ll wait downstairs all night rather than interrupt Geralt now. Still, regardless of any real likelihood of being caught, he’d expected Jaskier to put up more of a protest at the prospect of being fucked in open space, undoubtedly still within earshot of his fans. Instead he presses his lips to Geralt’s in an eager kiss that quickly grows sloppy, heated and hungry. Geralt palms Jaskier’s rapidly hardening cock through the front of his pants and backs him further against the wall. When he pulls back Jaskier makes a low sound of disapproval and leans after him, his lips still softly parted and his face faintly flushed. He’s shifting his hips as his cock strains against the confines of his pants and part of Geralt is sorely tempted to make him come before he can take them off.</p><p>But he didn’t ride back here so fast to make Jaskier come before Geralt’s had a chance to get inside of him. </p><p>He turns Jaskier roughly and pushes him against the wall, tearing open the fastenings of Jaskier’s trousers with one hand while he pushes two fingers of the other inside the bard’s mouth. Jaskier takes the hint quickly and, just as Geralt had expected, makes a show of sucking the witcher’s fingers as thoroughly as possible, swirling his tongue along their length and lathering them with his spit. The wet, sloppy sounds he’s making are deafeningly loud in the deserted hallway and Geralt pushes Jaskier’s pants down with hurried clumsiness so he can press his palm against his own clothed cock. He slides his fingers back out of Jaskier’s mouth so he can hear the eager, desperate sounds the bard makes at the sound of him unfastening his armour and pulling out his cock without any obstruction. </p><p>He’s not gentle when he fingers Jaskier open, quickly and ungracefully, with only the bard’s own spit to ease the way, but Jaskier moans and pleads for him as if the pace was torturously slow, begging Geralt to fuck him. It would be cruel to keep him waiting any longer and that’s exactly what Geralt does, teasing his spit-slick fingers shallowly into Jaskier’s tight heat, enjoying the way he clenches eagerly around them. He can feel Jaskier’s impatience as the bard writhes desperately against the wall, pushing his hips back and trying to urge Geralt further inside of him. Geralt grips him roughly by the shoulders and forces him still, viciously satisfied by Jaskier’s frustrated moan and helpless shiver.</p><p>“If you’re not going to fuck me properly,” Jaskier finally snaps impatiently, twisting uselessly against Geralt’s hold, “I’m <em>sure</em> I could find someone back downstairs who-“</p><p>The rest of his sentence is lost to the ringing in Geralt’s ears and the renewed, jealous <em>fury</em> pumping hotly through his blood. In a fight this single-minded anger would push him past fear, past pain, past anything that wasn’t making the kill and finishing the job. Even now, when he <em>knows</em> that Jaskier only said it to rile him up, he can’t stop himself from grabbing Jaskier’s hips in a bruising grip and pushing inside of him, too fast and too rough, he thinks, distantly, but Jaskier’s moaning matches his own. </p><p>Inside of Jaskier like this the wild, angry part of his mind howls at him to <em>claim</em> and he does, stroking Jaskier’s cock in time with the harsh thrusts of his own and pressing his teeth lightly against Jaskier’s neck to feel his pulse jump.</p><p>“<em>Mine</em>.” It comes out as more a snarl then a word but Jaskier wails his agreement all the same, his cock jumping in Geralt’s hand. Geralt nips at his neck, without quite meaning to, but Jaskier only gasps and bucks his hips forward into Geralt’s hand.</p><p>“<em>Again</em>,” he moans, breathlessly, “Geralt, <em>please</em>-”</p><p>Geralt interrupts him with another bite, then another, timing them between the thrusts of his hips until Jaskier’s pleas for <em>more</em> and <em>harder</em> are indistinguishable through his moans. Already Geralt can feel his pace growing more erratic as familiar heat coils through his body and he sinks his teeth into Jaskier’s throat as he comes in hot spurts, deep inside of him.</p><p>“Geralt!” Jaskier cries hoarsely, loudly enough that Geralt hears guests from the floor below react to it and smiles savagely to himself. He strokes Jaskier’s cock languidly and Jaskier stretches back against him with a soft groan. Something cold and uneasy lingers in the back of Geralt’s mind. </p><p>It’s an appealing sight, Jaskier tilting his head back with a moan, showing off the mess Geralt’s made of his throat but the marks aren’t <em>enough</em>, they only show that Jaskier’s been fucked, not that he’s <em>owned</em>. Before Jaskier had been Geralt’s he’d worn marks left by all manner of people, but he hadn’t <em>belonged</em> to any of them, not like he belongs to Geralt now.</p><p>Geralt needs more.</p><p>If witchers were the animals humans thought they were it would all be easier. Geralt could have simply claimed Jaskier over one of the downstairs tables, right in front of his unwanted admirers. He could have gone even further, taken him to Novigrad and fucked him in the middle of Hierarch Square until word had spread across the Continent that the bard belonged to Geralt and Geralt alone. He could tear out the throat of anyone who touched Jaskier, he could mark his territory in any way he pleased, he could….</p><p> He <em>could</em>.</p><p>His bladder throbs urgently as the idea takes shape in his mind. He can’t believe it took him so long to think of it.</p><p>Geralt’s no stranger to pissing in unusual places when necessary but it still takes a few moments to convince his body to let go inside of Jaskier. The first spurt he loses takes him almost by surprise and he speeds the pace of his hand on Jaskier’s cock to distract the bard from the sensation. The second spurt trails into a slow, steady stream of piss and Geralt can’t hold back a groan of satisfaction as it builds in intensity until he’s pissing full force into Jaskier.  </p><p>“What are you….” he smells it, the moment Jaskier realises what’s happening, and he’s ready when the bard starts to struggle, “is… is that… are you <em>pissing</em>?”</p><p>Geralt only grunts in response, shifting his hips and forcing his piss even further inside of Jaskier.</p><p>“T-that’s <em>disgusting</em>, Geralt <em>stop</em>!” Jaskier squirms frantically against the wall and doesn’t manage to move a single inch away. “Let me <em>go</em>, you- you…” he cuts himself off with a small, choking whine and Geralt wonders just what words could have been running through his mind. Freak? Mutant? Monster?</p><p>Even now Jaskier doesn’t say any of them, only shudders violently and whimpers softly under his breath as Geralt fills him with his piss. The prickly, uncomfortable sourness tainting the edges of Jaskier’s natural scent isn’t enough to disguise just how much he’s starting to smell of <em>Geralt</em>, so much so that even a non-mutated human would recognise it and know to stay away. Geralt almost purrs at the thought. </p><p>His stream is slowing to a trickle now and he allows himself a deep, satisfied sigh as he finishes emptying his bladder into Jaskier and turns his attention back to the bard’s cock. Jaskier’s softened in his hand, though not as much as he probably wishes he had. There’s a part of him that he never admits to out loud that <em>always</em> wants Geralt, even when he’d prefer not to, and it’s a simple matter, a few rough strokes of his shaft and a gentle, teasing touch to the underside of his balls, to bring him back to straining hardness. </p><p>“<em>Oh</em>,” Jaskier moans softly and, this time, Geralt hears reluctant excitement battling the discomfort in his voice. Jaskier squirms on the spot again and Geralt groans out loud when the movement allows a small trickle of urine to leak back out of him, past Geralt’s cock and down to the floor. Geralt rocks his hips in a slow rhythm, feeling more urine spill out of Jaskier in small drops and dribbles with his every movement, and strokes Jaskier’s cock, firmly and insistently, until he can smell the familiar, appealing scent of the bard’s orgasm building. Jaskier’s uncharacteristically quiet when he comes, only letting out a soft whimper, and he edges away from Geralt as soon as the witcher pulls out of him and steps back.</p><p>“I….” Jaskier trails off weakly and looks down at his boots, his face flushed a deep, humiliated red. He makes a quiet sound in the back of his throat, as if he’s about to speak again, but cuts himself off with another small whimper. As he shifts uncomfortably on the spot small rivulets of Geralt’s piss leak down the back of his thighs and pool in a small puddle at his feet. Geralt hums in satisfaction. Now the whole inn will smell of him and Jaskier, their scents inextricably woven together, just as they should be. </p><p>Without another word, still flushed from exertion and embarrassment, Jaskier turns away from Geralt and staggers back to their room. </p><p>**</p><p>Jaskier won’t look him in the eye for the rest of the night, but he doesn’t leave and the long bath he takes isn’t enough to entirely erase the scent of Geralt’s come and piss. Geralt waits until Jaskier has finally fallen asleep for the night before he truly allows himself to revel in it; his own scent threaded into Jaskier’s, <em>claiming</em> Jaskier in a way none of the bard’s previous partner’s would have dared. Irrefutable proof, at least for now, that Jaskier is <em>his</em>. </p><p>All his.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>warning explanation: </p><p>this fic includes unexpected, nonconsensual, unwanted kink (pissing inside of someone) during otherwise consensual sex in an established relationship and the noncon elements of this are described in detail. there's also continuous themes of unhealthy possessiveness and jealousy throughout the fic. please proceed with caution and, again, feel free to skip if any of this sounds like too much &lt;3 &lt;3</p></blockquote></div></div>
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